


How the Mighty Have Fallen

by MissMeLovely



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-20 04:34:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8236228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMeLovely/pseuds/MissMeLovely
Summary: Disoriented, beaten, and alone, Joker finds himself at the mercy of the Bat. Unable to turn his back on a man so helpless, Bruce resigns to caring for his nemesis, an unlikely turn of events indeed.





	1. A Cold, Dark Night

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everybody,
> 
> This is the first fanfic that I have ever posted. It is centered around one of my favorite DC characters: The Joker. This character has always seemed superficially immune to any kind of pain or negative experience, which made me wonder if there was ever one instance where that didn't apply. This intrigued me, so I aimed to expose the Joker to something more emotionally influential. Rape is an awful crime against any human being, and I would not wish it on anyone. But for the sake of literary exploration and character development, I have included it. 
> 
> With that being said, please be aware that topics of rape and abuse are present. 
> 
> Enjoy!

The air smells rotten. Putrid, horrid, and excessively rotten. It is a familiar stench, one that the Joker is more than accustomed to. The temperature couldn’t be more than 20 degrees, causing a shiver to run through every limb. There is a throbbing pain inside him that won’t stop reverberating throughout the lower portion of his body. What is this? The pain is enough to cause his tired eyes to creep open, allowing the darkness of his surroundings to sink in.

The first thing he notices is the night sky, a black expanse sprinkled with twinkling stars and surrounded by brick walls which fall around him. He shakily breathes in the crisp air, the protest of his ribs suggesting the presence of heavy bruising. He slowly raises his right hand and very lightly presses it to his chest, only to retrieve it with a hiss.

Why am I so sore?

He turns his head to the right and observes the trash scattered about his body. A tremor invades him which causes him to quickly curl up in a ball pressed against the wall on his left. It’s cold, he winces. He needs to get somewhere safe, somewhere he isn’t so exposed. He roughly and slowly leans up, his knees following suit. He rests in that position for a moment, sucking in laboring breaths of cold air. The pain and fatigue are almost too much. He presses the palm of his left hand against the wall as he straightens his knees and attempts to stand up. His legs feel numb from the seemingly long exposure to the cold which causes his knees to instantly buckle. His hand scrapes downward as he loses his balance and collapses into a pitiful heap on the dirty ground. The Joker groans and clutches at his now bleeding hand, curling inward.

Why is this happening?

Suddenly he remembers it, the filthy hands, the grunting, the grinding, the violation, the humiliation. His eyes begin to sting with tears. Gotham’s greatest villain, reduced to a pathetic and hopeless soul by the hands of inferior scoundrels. He doesn’t want to move for fear of disturbing his aching bones and muscles.

What if they come back though? What if they try to do it again? I am in no state to fight. How pathetic.

With that he tries to get up once more, using his right hand this time to stabilize himself against the wall. He raises himself up and leans into it, his head resting against the hard surface. The cold wind hits his face and he squeezes his eyes shut in response, wrapping his arms around his torso as he tries to put one foot in front of the other. He feels a dull sharp pain in between his legs as he stumbles across the alley. There is a loud howl in the air when suddenly a feline moves in between his feet, causing the Prince of Crime to lose his balance once more and fall forward face first with a resounding thump and splash into a puddle of god knows what. He lays there, his face half submerged and his limbs dead against the ground, as if the earth is holding him there. Warm salty liquid slowly cascades down his nose, dripping into the solution beneath him. Why? He inhales sharply, causing some of the puddle fluid to enter his mouth, and he cries, “H-help”. He feels defeated, pathetic, and weak at the unwarranted outburst. He blinks away oncoming tears and shudders. “Please…. help me.”

Laying in the grime and dirt, the Joker cries himself to sleep, exhausted by so little exertion and so much pain. A few hours pass with him writhing on the ground, when suddenly he feels himself being lifted into the air. His eyes open in a flash and he instantly begins flailing. No, not again. Please, no. His body writhes back and forth against the strong force, beating his fists into a hard chest. “P-please no. No more. No!” He feels one of his wrists being seized and the hold tightening around him. He hears a gruff voice quickly say, “Dammit, Joker. Stop!” The unknown identity of this individual terrifies him and only makes him struggle harder. Tears are pouring from his face now as he attempts to wiggle out of the man’s arms. “No! Stop! No! Please! Who are you?! What do you want?!” The relentless man sharply replies, “Joker! Stop this at once!”

Something within his mind registers the deep baritone and he abruptly pauses. “Bats…?”

The Joker stills at the realization, only to hastily wrap his arms around the Dark Knight’s neck like a lifeline. “Bats…I…they…I…please” he mumbles into his chest. Batman doesn’t say anything. This doesn’t seem like the Joker at all, the man who graced his audiences with a smile while murdering ruthlessly, while torturing unconditionally. This doesn’t seem like his sworn nemesis who managed to fight his way through multitudes of officers.

This isn’t him. This is just one big…joke.

Joker is sobbing now. Shame and embarrassment coursing through his veins. How pathetic am I…how WEAK am I to race into the arms of my enemy. This isn’t going to happen. I will not give in. I will not act like a pitiful weeping whore.

The Joker begins to struggle once more, pushing profusely against the black armor. Batman huffs in exasperation as he attempts to contain him within the confines of his arms. “Joker, stop. Joker-hey! Stop this NOW! Nothing will harm you. I will not harm you. You are safe. I’m taking you somewhere secure.” Batman begins walking despite the wiggling green mess against him. The Bat mobile is in sight ahead. He hears various musings pour out of the poor man as he carries him towards the car. “Please don’t kill me. Please don’t hurt me. Please.” Batman looks down at the dirty mop of green hair, “Joker, I will not hurt you. I promise. Shhh, you’re safe.” The Joker is quiet for the rest of the way.

Once Batman arrives at his vehicle he touches a button on the passenger side door, releasing the latches and opening up the vehicle. He slowly lowers the thin man into the seat who instantly tucks his knees under his chin once seated. He is shivering, his chattering teeth making the quiet air vibrate. Batman reaches beneath the seat for a blanket and wraps him in it. He looks at the Joker’s face, his makeup severely smeared from the tears and unknown external stimuli. The scars on the corners of his mouth are slightly swollen and inflamed. He lightly touches the small cuts with his fingers, causing the Joker to flinch and tuck his head down further. “What happened to you…?” He whispers. The Joker’s only response are his sobs which cause his shoulders to shake. “Shhhh, shhh, hey, everything is ok. Let’s get you somewhere safe.” Batman closes the passenger door and joins in on the driver’s side, starting the car.


	2. Soothing Waters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! More to come soon! Enjoy~~

“Joker? Hey, Joker…” The green haired man reluctantly opens his eyes. He feels the plush texture of a comforter surrounding him, cushioning him, protecting him. Above him he sees Bruce, donned in casual attire, looking down at him with barely detectable concern, though he knows by his tone that he is more worried than he lets on. 

Everything hurts. While he feels aching and dullness in some areas, there are also intense inflammatory and piercing sensations in others. He groans before he quickly leans over the bed and dry heaves, his dirty green locks falling around his face like a waterfall. Bruce hastily grasps his fragile form as the Joker leans over the edge of the bed. A few more gags and the Joker is exhaling heavily into his hand. “You’re dehydrated. Here…” Bruce takes hold of a glass of water on the nightstand to his left and proceeds to bring it up to the Joker’s lips, who hastily gulps the fluid down without hesitation.

Bruce puts the empty cup back on the nightstand and stares at the Joker’s restless form. His eyes look tired and tear stricken, his lips chapped and cracked. The scars surrounding his mouth are red and his slightly hollow cheeks are patterned with small bruises. His skin is whiter than usual, he notes, which in his experience is saying something. His eyes travel down to the rest of him, which is completely covered by the navy blue covers that he is grasping towards the bottom of his chin. He hadn’t removed any of the Joker’s clothing for fear of stirring his sleeping form, so the extent of the damage is currently beyond him, which stirs a thought within the bachelor. 

“I need to see how badly you’re hurt. Will you follow me into the bathroom so that I may inspect any wounds that you may have?” It is a longshot, as the Joker has never been the most trusting or accepting of people. The Prince of Crime casts a piercing stare at the Bat, searching for any negative intent that may be present. He doesn’t want to, but every part of him is protesting, begging for some kind of relief. With that he slowly nods and lightly throws the covers off his body. He squeezes his eyes shut when his ribs scream in anguish as he leans upward, causing him to abruptly collapse back onto the expensive mattress. Bruce makes his way to the side of the bed and helps him up. 

The two men slowly make their way to the bathroom on the far side of the room, the Joker leaning heavily on Bruce’s sturdy form. The bachelor can hear the labored breathing escaping the strict confines of his chest and out of his cracked, plush lips. Bruce opens the door and gently helps the Joker onto the seat of the toilet while he attends to the faucet in the tub. 

“What happened to you?” He finally asks, turning the hot water knob to the right. A burst of water subsequently pours out and begins filling the tub. The Joker doesn’t say anything and chooses to look away from Bruce, favoring the wall on his right. He doesn’t want to talk about it. He doesn’t want to think about it. Bruce senses his reluctance and doesn’t press the matter further. 

The two men are lost in thought as the tub fills up with hot water. Bruce wonders what could have caused the Joker to seem so…vulnerable. The usually strong and relentless male has seemingly fallen apart, leaving nothing but bones and skin. The charisma that the Joker usually possesses isn’t even present, just a shell of the man that he was not a few days from then. 

The Joker is looking down at his feet, attempting to erase the memories from a few hours before. He feels numb. It is a wonder how such a heinous but small assault could have brought down the most notorious villain in Gotham to an all-time low. The Joker shakes his head, choosing not to think about it further. He hears Bruce finally turn off the faucet and place various shampoos and body washes next to the tub on the tiled floor. He turns around and looks at the Prince expectantly. 

The Joker catches on and looks down at this mud ridden attire. He forces his hands to unbutton the first clasps of his vest before he grasps a fist full of it and looks away. He usually doesn’t care about nudity, but after the events that have transpired, he feels tremendously self-conscious. Sensing the Joker’s hesitance, Bruce brings himself up to his feet and slowly walks towards him. The Joker blankly looks at him. He is scanning the vigilante’s face for any sign of ill intent or disgust. When he finds none, his hands fall at his sides hopelessly, to which Bruce responds to by finishing the clasps of his purple vest. The Joker lets the Batman undress him, watching as individual articles of clothing fall to the ground at his feet. First the royal purple vest. Then his paisley tie. Next his green dress shirt. 

The Joker is keeping his eyes shut throughout the whole process, feeling more parts of him progressively become exposed to the cool air. The more he removes, the more he becomes nervous. Though he wants to know the full extent of the damage, he is also afraid of knowing. 

Don’t think about it. Don’t. 

His thoughts are interrupted when Bruce looks him intently in the eye, sadness and uncertainty filling the dark brown orbs. “I need to remove the rest; could you stand up for me?” 

The Joker nods slowly and proceeds to creek his tired body upward. Bruce is keeping his strong arm around his torso as he does so, preventing him from falling into a pitiful heap on the ground. The arm doesn’t move as Bruce uses the hand of the other to unbuckle the belt of his pants and push them downward. 

The Joker minutely cringes. He is down to his green boxers now. Bruce looks at him, searching for any sign of hesitance or fear in his eyes before he continues. Finding nothing but a blank stare, he begins to slide the boxers down his hips until there is nothing left on him. The Joker looks away, a small blush forming on his cheeks. Bruce takes a hold of his hand and places the other on his shoulder, stabilizing him as he walks towards the tub. Once there the Joker slowly raises his leg, the exertion of the action causing small tremors to erupt within him. The hot water makes his skin tingle as he lowers his foot into the tub. The other soon follows suit until he is fully seated, his back resting against the tiled wall behind him. The hot water is quick to soothe his aching muscles. 

While the Joker is resting, Bruce takes the opportunity to scan his body for more injuries. There is quite a bit of bruising on his chest and ribs, even more so on his hips and inner thighs. This small detail makes his eyebrows raise slightly. No, it can’t be. 

“Joker?” The tired man raises his head and looks at him, his piercing eyes peeking through wavy strands of green hair. “Did they try to…did they…” The Joker quickly looks away. A frown is forming on his crimson lips and his eyes begin to take on a bit of a shimmer. He looks down at the water pooling around him and whispers “Yes.” 

Bruce takes a big gulp and looks down at his folded knees. Meanwhile silent tears are falling down the Joker’s cheeks, dripping into the water below. He takes a few gulps of air before he reluctantly makes the decision to confide in the Bat about the assault. 

“I was leading a heist when things decided to get hairy. The pigs chased me down in a truck I stole which ended up fucking flipping once I reared a corner wrong. I was able to escape, but by then I had acquired a blasted concussion and some goddamn bruising on my ribs.” The Joker shifted in the water, leaning his head against the wall to his right and his knees tucked closer to his chest. His eyes were red with tears. He exhaled a shaky breath. 

“I stumbled down an alley and decided to rest for a bit. Not soon after that, a group of shitheads-4 or 5-walked down and upon recognizing my lovely face, surrounded me. Apparently I had held some of them hostage and others I had stolen from. At first they antagonized me and roughed me up a bit. But then…” The Joker sniffed and looked away. “They took their time. That’s for damn sure.” He choked out a laugh. “It’s all so funny, isn’t it? So ironic, so raw, so…insanely funny.” A fit of laughter erupts from his small frame, startling the Bachelor. 

The Joker’s laughs are echoing off the walls, subsiding into a small sob only to reignite again into another fit of laughter. Bruce quickly reaches over the tub and puts both of his hands on either side of the Joker’s face, turning it towards his own. The laughing quakes stop abruptly, only to become tiny whimpers and cries. “I don’t-I just-why all-” he chokes and Bruce hushes him, wiping away the tears falling from underneath his right eye, smearing the dark makeup in the process. “It’s ok, you’re ok. Everything’s all right, shhh. “He leans the Joker’s head onto his chest underneath his chin and wraps his arms around the defeated man. The sobs cause his wrapped arms to rise and fall with him. 

A few moments pass, and it doesn’t seem like the Joker’s despair is ceasing. Fuck it. Bruce lightly lets go of the Joker and proceeds to get into the tub with him. He lowers himself down and instantly hugs the man to him. His clothes are soaked, but he doesn’t care. Bruce lifts the Joker’s legs over his own and holds him close while he purges his body of a long awaited emotional release. Some of the water has turned an inky black due to the Joker’s makeup, well, what’s left of it. The Joker is tightly grasping at Bruce’s shirt, his nails lightly digging into his skin. 

The sobbing soon subsides into quiet breathing. Bruce looks down at the Joker’s face only to find him sleeping against his shoulder. All of that emotional distress must have tired him out. Bruce thinks. He looks back down at the sleeping form against him and lightly exhales, “This is going to be a long ass night.”

**Author's Note:**

> Next chapter will soon follow! Comments and feedback are welcome! (Pretty please, with a cherry on top.)


End file.
